Inarticulate by Eden Summers Page A

fidelity?
    The warmth of his touch slid over her knee and she opened her eyes to find steely gray irises focused on her. Breathing became hard, thinking even harder.
    “Keenan.” His fingers had a direct line to her sex. Each brush against her skin was like a swipe along her pussy. In the blink of an eye her apprehension flittered away and arousal descended like a monsoon.
    She wanted him—his conversation, his attention, his body. Absolutely all the things she shouldn’t want or couldn’t have.
    She shook her head, denying the pleasure taking over her senses. “I didn’t come here because of us.” She cringed at how presumptuous she sounded. There was no us . There were only stolen moments with his fingers in her cherry pie. “What I mean is, I didn’t come here because of last night. I came because I hoped to get answers about Penny.”
    He straightened, the heavenly touch of his fingers sliding from her thigh to rest back on the table.
    At least she had his attention.
    “Dominic told me you work with her.”
    He nodded, the movement clipped, and grasped the glass of water in front of him. She watched as he drank, the clear liquid moistening deliciously full lips.
    “Does that mean you work for Grandiosity?”
    He inclined his head. She wanted to push for more information, to determine what role he played, but without pen and paper the guessing game could take hours. Grandiosity was more successful and had a larger scope of employees than Rydel. He could be anything from a graphic designer to a maintenance man. And she felt entirely guilty for assuming his position was low-level due to his limited ability to communicate.
    No, it wasn’t only his lack of speech.
    He didn’t boast an excessive bank balance. His attire so far hadn’t included expensive suits. There wasn’t a flash of an ostentatious watch or an offer to ride in his extravagant car. He’d taken her to an understated restaurant, spent time at family dinners and low-key bonfires. She’d spent enough time around men with deep pockets to know the signs.
    She took a break from Keenan’s scrutiny and focused on the far end of the restaurant. Business was no longer on the agenda. This was now about her body, the way it tingled, the way certain parts clenched when he stared, and most importantly, how she could get more. She had to spit it out. Get on with it. Confident the hell out of this discussion.
    “Are you with her?” Her tone was authoritative. Fearless. Totally bad-ass.
    He leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms over his chest, and shut her off to his suave affection. He didn’t need money or power. That look alone sent her up in flames, exposing every nerve to his appealing confidence.
    She glared, attempting to chink his superiority, and failed miserably. He was impenetrable. A stone-cold wall.
    “You don’t think I deserve to know?”
    He appraised her with an impassive stare. There was no charm, no concern. He seemed like he didn’t care for the conversation, or her in general anymore.
    “Well, as informative and fun as this whole experience has been, I think it’s best if I leave.” She placed her hands on the edge of the table, preparing to push to her feet when his palm pressed down on her fingers.
    “Are you ready to order?”
    A waitress stepped into Savannah’s periphery, a notepad in hand. Damn her and her impeccable timing.
    Keenan turned his attention to the woman, his smile sly as he nodded.
    “The usual?” the young, brunette asked.
    Another nod. As the woman scribbled on her notepad, he raised a flat hand to his chin and then lowered it to expose his palm.
    Sign language?
    “No problem.” The waitress turned her attention to Savannah. “How about you?”
    “What is his usual?” It was probably something masculine and entirely caveman. Steak. Rare. Fries and definitely no salad or vegetables.
    “He has the dipping breads as an appetizer, which is big enough to share.” The woman shrugged. “Or you could